


darwin could do better

by wrino



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrino/pseuds/wrino
Summary: Writing a twenty-page term paper was hard enough for Yamaguchi before the power went out. Lucky for him, he meets someone who makes the ordeal slightly less harrowing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: i changed the title and the summary because i didn't really like it? old title was "chance encounter"!

_The evolution of land plants and animals is pivotal to the success of all organisms. The earliest land plants played major roles in the rise of oxygen levels to their modern abundance, a key event that paved the way for the survival of organisms today (Lenton et al., 2016). On the other hand, vertebrates represent the bulk of most carnivorous diets, and some invertebrates are employed in the testing of medical equipment and vaccines (Monks, 2015). The characteristics of plants and animals have not only aided in their own survival, but have also been utilized in modern applications to benefit other organisms._

 

He punctuates his final sentence with a sigh. He’s been working on his final essay for three hours straight, but he still isn’t even halfway through the required page count. He stretches out his legs from under the desk, flinching at every _pop_ his joints make. After sitting hunched over a laptop for hours, his muscles were bound to stiffen.

 _Pop_ , his neck tells him, as he rolls it.

 _Pop pop pop_ , his fingers say, as he cracks his knuckles in front of him. 

 _You’ve only written 600 words in the past three hours,_ he tells himself, as his eyes bear holes on the open document. 

“Too slow, Kageyama!” Yamaguchi is instantly snapped out of his reverie by his roommate’s loud yelling across their dorm room. The former watches as Hinata’s avatar sends a combination attack on his opponent’s body, effectively knocking the enemy out and winning the match. He let outs a _whoop_ and jumps, hitting his head on the low ceiling.

Like most dorm rooms, theirs is tiny and can barely fit their growing bodies, much less the hordes of items they’d brought from home. Two beds lie opposite each other and about a meter apart, both pushed against the wall they’re closest to, with one by the window and one by the door. The beds each house small desks at the foots, with barely enough room to fit three hardcover books and a laptop at the same time. Hinata and Yamaguchi slowly learned to live in the small space they’d been given, from carefully scheduling shower hours to stacking books and forging a makeshift stand for the TV.

Hinata, however, could never break his habit of jumping _high_ when he was happy, and the ugly marks on the ceiling were unpleasant testaments.

“Dumbass!” Kageyama yells, his voice struggling against the victor’s jubilant cheers, unhindered by the head-to-ceiling collision. “You’re going to break your dorm room!”

“Jealous because I won again, Kageyama- _kun_?” Hinata says, his voice a sing-song on the honorific. Kageyama and he, too, have been occupied for the past three hours, eyes glued to the small TV they’d managed to fit in the tiny room, backs leaning against the bed. “Don’t worry, don’t worry! If you practice a little more, I’m sure you’ll beat me. Or maybe a lot more.”

Kageyama glares at him. “That was only the third time, you – ah! Yamaguchi!” He says, noticing Yamaguchi’s staring.

The latter yelps at being caught. “Don’t mind me,” he says, a sheepish grin emerging on his face. “I just needed a short break, is all.” 

“Yama-chan! You’ve been working on that essay for hours _._ Can’t you have fun for just a little while?” Hinata pouts. If this were any other time, Yamaguchi, a man who could spend hours just trying to beat his personal best on Mario Kart, would probably take the bait and ask for the third console controller. This time, however, Yamaguchi is a man who put off writing the single most important essay of the semester until the last minute. 

“Sorry, Hinata. This is due Friday, so I have about four days to cram a 25-page essay worth forty percent of my biology grade.”

Kageyama whistles, one low and drawn-out. Yamaguchi is glad for the sympathy.

“ _Fine,_ ” Hinata says. “Kageyama and I’ll just play until you get jealous and beg to join us.”

“Thanks for understanding, Hinata.” The three return to their prior engagements. After a few minutes, even the duo’s yells are quieted, and the only sounds in the dorm room are Yamaguchi’s sporadic typing and the tranquil background music of the new game Hinata loaded the console with. 

After a few more minutes, there is only darkness.

“Oh, god, no –“ Yamaguchi scrambles to grab his phone after the initial shock of the blackout, his hands fumbling on the screen until the flash turns on. “You okay, guys?” He turns his phone towards the other side of the room, where Hinata and Kageyama are still sitting on the floor.

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Have nothing to do for the next hour, though.” Hinata supplies, though all three of them know what the duo would want to do even more than play video games.

“Wanna play volleyball?” Kageyama hasn’t even finished asking his question when Hinata agrees, his hands already struggling to tie his shoelaces with the limited light they have.

“Suga-san! Daichi-san! Are you busy!” Hinata yells in the hall, earning a chorus of _shut up!_ in multitudes from students in other rooms. 

Yamaguchi sighs, protests of _it’s already 7_ stuck in the back of his throat. “Just be back before 9, Hinata. I don’t want a repeat of the last time you stayed at the courts until midnight.”

“Yes, Yama! Good luck on your essay!” Hinata and Kageyama speed off, leaving no proof of their stay apart from the two controller wires thoroughly tangled in each other.

Yamaguchi settles in his uncomfortable plastic chair, left arm holding his phone as he raises it to illuminate the laptop’s keyboard while he types.

When he is two more sentences in, he finds that he doesn’t have enough downloaded material to provide enough evidence for his essay’s claims, ignoring the sudden _ping_ and pop-up window at the corner of his monitor.

When he is seven more sentences in, he realizes that one of the articles he’s been using as a reference has outdated information.

When he is two more paragraphs in, he rereads the content he was able to write.

His laptop alerts him four more times before it suddenly shuts down, and Yamaguchi is cloaked in black for the second time that night.

 

* * *

 

The Starbucks is freezing cold and excruciatingly hot all at once. The air conditioner releases cold air at full blast, but the bodies squeezing together in similar attempts to feel the slightest chill exude a warmth painfully evident the second Yamaguchi walks in. The scent of sweat and deodorant mingled with the bitter odor of brewing coffee isn't lost on him, and he has takes a few seconds to adjust his sense of smell lest he vomit all over the clean white tiles. Worst of all, all the café's seats and tables have been occupied by haggard university students on their laptops overlapping typical coffee shop chatter with sounds of frantic typing. Those who weren't able to take seats are either leaning against the wall or standing awkwardly between tables, coffee in one hand and phone in the other. On high alert of a vacated chair, their eyes periodically scan the room.

Discouraged, Yamaguchi turns on his heel just before catching sight of the perfect table in the corner of his eye.

The spot is in the far corner of the room, away from the cacophony at the middle of the café where uncomfortable students have come to accumulate and of reasonable distance from the noise at the counter. It is not right below the single air conditioning unit nor distant from its area of effect, but just enough out of its way to receive enough cold air. Yamaguchi spies a set of two outlets underneath the table, with only one socket in use. Of the two seats placed across from each other, one is the only empty seat left in the café. 

The other chair is positioned with its back turned away from the entrance, so all Yamaguchi can see of its occupant are white headphones atop short blond hair and pale skin creeping out from a navy blue sweater. Like others in the café, the stranger faces a laptop with a document and a browser splitting the screen. The way their long fingers glide deftly across the keyboard, however, is unmatched. While the rest of the customers bleed their own personal brands of stress and discomfort, the stranger exhibits a calm and quiet demeanor. Yamaguchi continues to stare at their back until a small collision knocks him back to reality. 

"Ah, sorry!" He says quickly, as he comes out of his trance. The woman he blocked waves him away in a gesture of forgiveness, leaving Yamaguchi to get his bearings straight.

He can easily count ten, fifteen people standing up, but no one has opted to sit across his blond stranger. It's not as if the seat is hidden, as it’s illuminated by the hanging light near its table. He assumes it's also not because the others are too shy to sit with people they don't know; he can spot students sharing booths but sitting a certain distance from each other, as if not wanting to interact. He finds himself starting at the stranger again. They don't look particularly threatening, just calm.

With that, Yamaguchi walks the ten paces he needs to reach the table. He finds that there are more than a few eyes following him as he stops in front of the chair and waves his hand in greeting: 

"Hi!"

The boy doesn't reply. His back is hunched over and he seems completely engrossed in his work. Dumbly, Yamaguchi remembers his headphones. He tries again, but with more vigor and larger hand gestures:

"Hello!" 

With an audible sigh, the stranger slowly pulls his headphones from his head and moves to look at Yamaguchi. For the first time, he gets a good look at the boy's face.

And, well, said boy is actually _very_ cute _._

Yamaguchi feels an unwelcome warmth rush to his face. For two seconds, he forgets where he is and what he came there to do. His eyes take in the boy’s long, graceful fingers and short blond hair.

What makes Yamaguchi freeze in his tracks is not the pair of warm, golden brown eyes shielded by black glasses atop a small, thin nose. It isn't the couple of thin eyebrows scrunched together, the little _v_ formed on his forehead, nor the tips of his ears flushed an adorable rosy shade.

It is the fact that the very cute boy also looks very, very angry. 

"What," he says through his teeth, completely livid. More than half the café is looking at the pair now. The stranger isn't yelling at all, but the tension caused by Yamaguchi's intrusion is thicker than wood.

 _So this is why no one's sitting here,_ Yamaguchi thinks. He says a little prayer for himself. _Hinata, tell my mother I love her._

"Can I sit here?" He says, trying to sound cheerful and sweet and not at all terrified.

"Why."

"U-um, I need to sit somewhere, and there's nowhere else to-"

"Fine."

“Thanks!” More than anything, the sudden agreement surprises Yamaguchi, but he supposes it’s just because the other boy wants to utter as few words as possible. _And that’s fine_ , he thinks. _You may be cute, but you’re also very scary and I need to write about 15,000 more words before Friday._

He sends Hinata a quick text before settling in the mahogany chair:

 

**7:20 PM**

to: **HINATA**

My laptop died ヽ (´Д`;) ﾉ i’m at starbucks, charging and writing my essay. i might be home late, please text if power is back.

He pulls out his laptop from its sleeve and the charger from his bag’s pocket. Careful not to disturb the blond even further, he noiselessly sets the laptop on the table and plugs in the adaptor in the unused socket. He lets out a sigh of relief when a small dot on the charger glows orange, and turns on his laptop. As he waits for the desktop to appear on the screen, his phone blurts out the first few notes of the Pokémon Red battle music.

**7:21 PM**

from: **HINATA**

OK yama do your best o( ｀ ^´*)

 

* * *

  

Before he knows it, it’s his turn to order.

He has never actually been to Starbucks before, much less ordered anything. Yamaguchi has always found coffee to be borderline appalling, with taste buds having never been accustomed to the bitter tang while growing up. In his college years, when he found that staying up until the latest hours of the night were more a necessity than a childhood wish, he experimented with different ratios of sugar (3 packets) and cream (5 packets) to reach a flavor he could stomach, and even then vowed only to turn to it as a last resort.

Yet, here he found himself trying to order off an unfamiliar menu filled with the very drinks he hated in order to ease the guilt in his chest at intending to use all of their free amenities without giving something in return.

He checks the assortment of pastries and sandwiches beside the counter and picks out his dinner. “Could I have a glazed donut, please?” He realizes too late that the last bottled water was ordered by the person before him, and he quickly orders the first thing he sees on the overhead menu.

“And, um, a… Caffè Americano?” He winces as soon as he utters his coffee order, but he hands over the payment anyway. The blonde barista is still kind and cheerful after serving dozens upon dozens of university students, and Yamaguchi takes it upon himself to feel especially sorry for her.

“Is electricity out in all the dormitories?” She asks him, laughing. “I could’ve sworn this place was quiet thirty minutes ago!" 

Yamaguchi gives her a sympathetic smile back as he receives his change and receipt. “I’m not sure, but there’s definitely a blackout in ours,” he replies. He peeks at the nametag on her chest. “Thanks, Tanaka-san!”

He walks back to his table, where the blond boy is in the exact position he was in when Yamaguchi first saw him. He quietly sits back down and examines the last paragraph he wrote.

 

_Studies have analyzed the role of bryophytes, which colonized the terrestrial habitat during the Middle to Late Ordovician period, in the rise of levels of atmospheric oxygen and the establishment of a stable oxygen-rich atmosphere triggered during the mid-Paleozoic era (Kenrick et al., 1997). A study by Lenton et al. (2016) points to a major oxygenation event brought on by the rise of the earliest land plants due to the elevation of organic carbon burial, indicated by the positive shifts in isotopic composition of carbonate rocks. The latter is supported by the high carbon to phosphorus ratio of bryophytes which was further amplified by plant-driven increase in P weathering flux relative to the weathering flux of alkalinity. Further analysis of isotopic composition of carbonate rocks implied stability of atmospheric oxygen wherein oxidative weathering increased and new fire-mediated negative feedbacks on oxygen were initiated. These finding indicate, if not emphasize, the significance and prominence of bryophytes in subsequent evolution of oxygen-dependent organisms._

 

“It’s missing something,” he says out loud, his left fingers drumming against the table and right leg shaking as he thinks. He's at seven pages now, and he's quite proud of the sentences he managed to write, but he still had to cram 18 more pages. He doesn’t notice the slight rocking of the table as he performs his restless mannerisms, nor does he notice the sudden frantic typing of the stranger in front of him.

He does, however, hear the loud _tch_ the blond sends his way.

“Could you please,” he says, looking at Yamaguchi like he's gum stuck to the sole of his favorite shoe, “stop that.”

“Sorry!” He says, for what he thinks is the eleventh time that day. 

The stranger keeps his eyes on him for two moments more, then goes back to his work. Yamaguchi’s eyes are drawn to the cable of the blond’s earphones, which aren’t plugged into anything at all.

 

* * *

 

_jkljjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjknkgnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,,,,,,,,,,,,,,mkhmlllmmmomoomooooooomooooooooooookkkkkkkkkkkk,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,mklll.................................................jknnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_ _nnnnnnnnnnnnnn__

 

"Yamaguchi."

" _Yamaguchi."_

The blond pokes the sleeping boy across from him exactly eight times before the latter wakes up with a jolt and a flurry of unintelligible sounds.

"Wha-? What happened?" A fork clatters to the floor in his temporary chaos. He shakes his head as his eyes adjust to his surroundings.

The Starbucks is almost devoid of customers now, save for themselves and a couple huddled together in a corner, sharing what looks like a pink milkshake with whipped cream on top. They certainly paint a sweeter picture than Yamaguchi, who is a tired mess, and the blond, who looks as uninterested as ever. The barista, Tanaka-san, yawns by the cashier, smiling at Yamaguchi when their eyes meet. One barista clears the table a few meters away from the couple, and another scrunches his forehead in concentration as he plays his Nintendo 3DS behind the counter. It's dark outside, but a few streetlights illuminate the road and the students walking along it.

"You fell asleep."

"Oh." 

"And you drooled all over your keyboard."

Yamaguchi curses and quickly wipes between the keys with a used tissue as the stranger watches him. He chances a quick look at his laptop screen and groans. He finds out exactly which part of his keyboard he slept on, as the document shows a smash of letters from the right.

He feels his face with his hands. Sure enough, there are indents where the keys pressed against his head as he slept.

Opposite him, the blond snorts behind his hand. Yamaguchi sends him a weak glare. If the small laugh is any indication, he considers himself forgiven for earlier's mishap. The stranger looks much more human now, with his stiff shoulders and robotic glare replaced by tired, uninterested features. He doesn’t look like he wants to gouge Yamaguchi’s eyes out with the tips of his glasses; rather, he looks like he doesn’t care about whatever happens to Yamaguchi at all.

"How long was I asleep?"

"About two hours. It's midnight. They'll be closing soon, so I woke you." In his daze, he almost misses a crucial detail.

"Wait, _you_ woke me up?"

The stranger raises an eyebrow. "Who else?"

"How do you know my name?"

At this, the blond blushes again, this time not with quiet anger but with what Yamaguchi decides is embarrassment. "They called your name when they gave you your drink. And it’s on your cup."

"Oh, right." 

"Which you barely touched." He’s right. The coffee Yamaguchi ordered was the worst he’d ever tasted, and was enough to make him repulsed at the thought of drinking anything in the next four hours. The cup remained beside an empty plate, with his name scrawled lazily on its side.

"Ah, well - I'm not exactly... I don't like coffee. I just came here because electricity was out at my dorm and I needed somewhere to charge my laptop," he says, sheepish.

Eyebrow raise again. "If not coffee, what?"

"Um, juice?"

"They sell juice at Starbucks."

"Wha- They do?"

"Yes."

He nods his head thoughtfully as his hands find the phone in his pocket.

 

**9:43 PM**

from: **HINATA**

are u still at starbucks? im back at the dorm. kageyama and noya-san and i played 3v3 against suga-san and daichi-san and ennoshita-san, we won yaaaaay (´∀`) no power yet, but suga-san gave us some candles and stuff. power out in 4 dorms. kageyama went back 2 his house.

 

**10:31 PM**

from: **HINATA**

yama-chaaaaan where are youuuu id go to starbucks but i dont wanna move and its cold outside

 

**10:52 PM**

from: **HINATA**

is it OK to leave a candle on while i sleep?

 

**10:53 PM**

from: **HINATA**

im leaving 1 on its dark

 

**11:02 PM**

from: **HINATA**

night yamachan~ leaving the room unlocked, dont overwork urself!! (:˒[￣]

 

Yamaguchi groans. If he doesn’t get back soon, the whole dormitory will burn down. _If it hasn’t already,_ he thinks, as he hastily dumps his laptop and charger back into the bag. His eyes wander to the stranger, who quietly sips his drink as he peruses the contents of his phone. His laptop is nowhere to be seen, and Yamaguchi considers asking him why he’s still here when it’s near-closing time before changing his mind. 

He should probably thank him for waking him up, though. His eyes scan the coffee cup the blond is holding before settling on a name, written as haphazardly as Yamaguchi’s own. He stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder before turning his head to the blond.

“I should go. Ah, thanks for waking me up, Tsukki!”

Unfortunately, the split-second before Yamaguchi says his name, _Tsukki’s_ grasp on his cup shifts to reveal the remaining _–shima_ , and Yamaguchi wills a bullet train, or a rogue helicopter, or even a newborn baby, really, to end his life then and there as Tsukishima’s features slowly morph into a familiar glare.

Neither the machines nor the infant arrive quick enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first haikyuu!! fic i've ever written, and the second ever, so i'd really appreciate any comments/criticism on my writing! comment if u liked it, comment if u hated it (•ө•)♡


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, i'm so so sorry this is so late (┳◇┳) i swear i didn't mean for the next chapter to take this long, but i've been neck-deep in reviewing for college entrance tests this past month. coupled with a lack of motivation, i really couldn't shell out a good chapter in time. i promise i'll make more time for writing the next chapter, or that i'll work harder in getting it out in less than a month.
> 
> second, thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments in the first chapter! i really didn't expect that kind of feedback at all, and it's really nice to receive emails telling you people appreciate your work ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶ thank you so so much!!!

His eyes open to an immobile ceiling fan, its plastic blades taunting him with their lacking locomotion. His right hand comes up to his face and drags down his forehead to clear the expanding pool of sweat. Beads of liquid pour down his cheeks and find new solace in his hard mattress. His left hand rubs both eyes, fingers picking at the gunk in their corners. Outside, three nearby birds hum their morning ballads. Peeking through the window would show a mother fowl lovingly regurgitating food into her child’s beak.

Yamaguchi finds himself light-headed as he sits up. He had fallen asleep at about one in the morning, and was woken up four hours later by the obnoxious ringing of his alarm. Hinata, who usually awoke with him, cursed and attempted to throw his pillow at Yamaguchi's face. He missed outstandingly, hitting the TV and shifting a few of the books below it.

" _Yamaguchi_. They cancelled classes today. The RA left a note." Hinata put his hands over his eyes, as if willing them to stay shut forever.

"You didn't text me about it."

"Oh, right. Sorry, that was my bad." Normally, Hinata would have whined more, or would have yelled a little – inevitably angering their short-tempered neighbors. The fact that so few and so modest words left Hinata Shouyou's mouth made obvious how painful their current conditions were.

Yamaguchi slowly pushes himself of his bed and picks up his phone from where it had fallen on the floor. The smell of lavender engulfs his olfactory. His roommate loves using scented candles when they need an extra light source, or when he's in a particular mood to light one. Each candle in the collection Hinata had accumulated in their dorm room coincided with one of his emotions, and he lit one every time he felt one strongly. Lavender is for extreme happiness, Yamaguchi knows, and he smiles. A quick glance lets him know the time (9:32 AM), and a scroll through his messages tells him Hinata is out getting ice cream with Kageyama.

 _"and then volleyball practice,"_ Hinata had relayed in his message.

Yamaguchi recalls when Hinata and Kageyama were less than easy banter and borderline obsessive – but friendly – competition. Bitterness used to stain Hinata’s enthusiasm, and he came home to their dorm after every practice with rejuvenated rage and an anger-tainted story to tell his roommate. Yamaguchi watched their friendship evolve from childish rivalry to random tickle fights and tangled legs under the covers. He eyes the pictures tacked on the wall of Hinata’s side of the room, above his bed. Out of the nine photos, two are of his sister and mother, one is of him and his sister, two are of his sister alone, one is of him and Yamaguchi, and one is of a picture of his volleyball team’s members – their backs are turned to the cameras, and most of them are squatting while they point to the numbers on the behinds of their uniforms.

The remaining two are of him and Kageyama. The one nearest his pillow is of them at last year’s V League, smiling brightly as they held up tickets Yamaguchi had bought for them. He laughs to himself. Since the day they started living together, Yamaguchi had been exposed to countless ambitious proclamations about the sport ("Someday, I'm going to be the next little giant. No, I'll be _better_ than him!") and tirades about certain teammates he never bothered to name ("He's so _stingy_ Yama-chan! And he's smart and tall, which is _great_ in volleyball, but he never tries. If I had all that I'd be all gwahhhhh _BLOCK_ or hyahhhhh _SPIKE_. It's so frustrating!"). 

And though he doesn't understand how Hinata can be a middle blocker when he's so short, doesn't know exactly what a libero is apart from Hinata's vague explanation, can't tell apart a jump floater serve from a regular serve, he _does_ understand ambition. He understands, more than anything, the constant need to improve himself, to mold his skills into abilities worth value in the real world. He pours himself into his studies with quiet intensity. He never misses deadlines, never puts off his work, and is always on top of his schoolwork.

As if the universe were paying special attention to this particular freckled university student with dark hair and a tuft that has never been successfully domesticated, the text reads:

 _good luck w that essay ur cramming btw!!!!!! i believe in u yama!!!! ♡ඩ⌔ඩ♡_  

A bird flies straight into the window. It hits the glass with a _thump_ and a loud, angry chirp.

 

* * *

 

Tsukishima isn’t wearing his headphones, Yamaguchi notes. Instead, they lie beside his laptop on the table, cord wrapped neatly around the band.

He gulps. Like yesterday, no one has deigned to sit in front of Tsukishima, and it is the only chair left in the room. He tightens his hold on his laptop bag and takes slow, labored steps to their table.

“Hey,” Yamaguchi tries. 

To his surprise, Tsukishima murmurs a “hi” and looks up at him. Sunlight filters through the glass walls and rests on his pale skin. It reflects in the blond of his hair and on the lens of his eyeglasses, intensifying one and nullifying the other. _You’re so pretty_ , Yamaguchi thinks, pink at the thought.

“Hi,” Tsukishima repeats, impassive. “I got you juice.”

The other student blinks at the bottle in front of his companion’s laptop. The clear glass showcases a yellow orange liquid in its container. Yamaguchi beams, his eyes squinting as his smile overtakes the freckles on his cheek.

“You knew I was coming?”

The blond shrugs. “Power’s still out in the dormitories, so I thought you’d come.”

Still smiling, Yamaguchi sits on his chair and picks up the bottle, turning it with his hands and feeling the glass. He opens his mouth to speak when Tsukishima beats him to it.

“And I didn’t know what flavor you wanted, so I just picked the one that looked like you.”

“A… giant peach?”

 “I meant you look like someone who would like peach juice. More than brambleberry, anyway.” Tsukishima reddens. The flush touches the tips of his ears, his cheeks, his nose. Yamaguchi focuses on a faint mole on the boy’s right ear. It is only made more obvious by the red engulfing it.

“I do like peach juice, Tsukki. I’m a peach _aficionado_. It’s my third favorite fruit,” Yamaguchi replies, setting the bottle on the table.

“What’s your second favorite fruit?”

The freckled boy taps his finger on his lower lip. Tsukishima follows the motion with his eyes.

 “Strawberries. The white kind.”

 “Oh.” 

Tsukishima lowers his head, but not before Yamaguchi catches the slightest grin on his lips.

“Tsukki, what’s brambleberry?”

* * *

 

_Choanoflagellates have been determined to be the closest relatives of metazoans, originally only thought to be due to their similarity to choanocytes of sponges, the basal animals; however, evidence obtained after nuclear and mitochondrial genetic analyses, comparison of microbial genomes of choanoflagellates and other animals, and the discovery of homologs of metazoan signaling and adhesion genes in choanoflagellates strongly supports the relationship (King, 2008)._

 

“Yama!”

Yamaguchi’s fingers pause over the keyboard. His brown eyes meet Hinata’s own across the café, and he smiles at his roommate’s vibrant, orange hair. One arm waves violently, while the other holds a paper bag with the McDonald’s logo. His yelling attracts the attention of most of the customers, and they all stare at the boy for little more than half a second. Hinata’s energetic waving is then rudely interrupted by a prompt _whack_.

“Stop waving like that, dumbass. People could get seizures.” Kageyama isn’t yelling, but his speaking voice is loud enough for Yamaguchi to hear. The raven-haired boy waves to him before walking to the counter to order. His companion stalks to Yamaguchi’s table, rubbing his head while moving towards him. 

“That _hurt_ , Yama.”

“You were kind of loud,” Yamaguchi offers, as he laughs into the back of his hand. “People were staring.” 

“They were _not._ ”

“They were. Why are you here anyway? You don’t even like Starbucks.” Unlike Yamaguchi, Hinata devoured coffee so often that drinking three cups straight rarely had an effect on his energy. _I love how bitter it is,_ Yamaguchi remembers Hinata telling him, _it makes me feel the same way as when I get a clean feint in._

 _You feel bitter?_ Yamaguchi had asked, confused.

 _Strong,_ Hinata replied.

Because of his love for the drink, however, Hinata hated Starbucks and other corporate coffee shops with a passion only surmounted by his devotion to volleyball. Their pricing, he had angrily explained, was way over what was reasonable, and they used way too much sugar and whipped cream that any flavor of the menu’s drinks was overpowered by the two ingredients. _And don’t get me started on those damn frappes_ , he’d said, with a solemn shake of his head.

“Someone messaged Kageyama’s milk blog and told him Starbucks would be selling a secret milk drink today.”

“His _milk blog?_ ” 

“Don’t ask. Oh, and I got you these. The girl at the counter looked at me funny when I told her they had to be _floppy_ , and not crunchy and hot.” He takes out the french fries from the paper bag and hands them to a beaming Yamaguchi, who moves his laptop to the side to make room for the food.

“Thanks, Hinata! I haven’t really eaten anything other than lunch, so I really needed –“ He turns his head to find Hinata wide-eyed and gawking at Tsukishima, who has his headphones on and is quietly tapping the keys of his device.

“Oi, Tsukishima!” Hinata waved his arms wildly in front of the bespectacled blond, to no avail. His arms whipped in the air, and Yamaguchi thought of the crows he’d seen by the dumpster two days before. One of the baby crows was having trouble flying, and their mother was gently pushing him with her beak to help him gain momentum. The baby crow, limited not by his own doubt but by his physical limitations, couldn’t muster up enough strength to fly, and instead flapped his wings helplessly against his sides. Staring at his roommate, he imagines Hinata as the baby crow, with his arms pathetically flailing in the air.

The baby crow in question drags him away from his daydream by accidentally slapping his face. Both he and Tsukishima startle, the latter having witnessed the debacle in the corner of his field of vision. He slides his headphones down his head so they sit on his shoulders and surround his neck.

“What do you want?” _There it is_ , Yamaguchi thinks. Just as he thinks he’d imagined Tsukishima’s deathly glare from the night before, the scowl comes back with double the bite, this time directed at his roommate.

“You didn’t attend practice!”

“It was optional. There’s a blackout,” the blond says, as if stating the obvious. His features slowly morph to allow him an air of indifference, and his glower mellows into a slight frown.

“Everyone else attended!”

“I have homework.” 

“Why is he here?” Kageyama asks, suddenly materializing at Hinata’s side. His grip tightens on the large, transparent cup in his hands. The cup houses tiny specks of black swimming in iced white fluid. As he speaks, the straw in between Kageyama’s teeth muffles his words.

 “Sucking face with the King again?” Tsukishima’s lips curl into a smirk, clearly having found his opening. He turns his head to Kageyama. “Found a better use for your stamina than volleyball, I see.”

“Shut up.”

Hinata drags his hands down his face until only the tops of his fingers touch his jaw. “Why are you sitting with Yama, anyway? Don’t infect him with your… Tsukishima virus!”

“ _He_ sat with _me_.”

“Um, you know each other?” All three turn his attention to him, having forgotten about Yamaguchi sometime during their bickering. Hinata and Tsukishima regard his question in two heartbeats, while Kageyama absentmindedly sips on his milk.

“He’s Stingyshima, Yamaguchi! _The_ Stingyshima!” Hinata points to Tsukishima with both index fingers, jabbing the air in front of him as if he were trying to poke a hole in the dimensions of time and space. Yamaguchi gasps.

“ _You’re_ Stingyshima?”

“Who the fuck is Stingyshima?”

“Stay away from Tadashi!”

Yamaguchi sighs, rubbing his fingers on his temples in slow circles. He takes a deep breath. “Hinata, relax. Tsukki’s letting me sit here because this was the only seat not taken when I arrived. And I’m charging my laptop. See?”

“ _Tsukki_?” In the background, Kageyama shakes his head at the nickname. He mouths ‘Tsukki’ three times. After each time, he gags into his drink, each one louder and more intricate than the one before it. Yamaguchi glares at him.

“I don’t trust him,” Hinata says firmly. His hands, now at his side, twitch.

“I don’t trust you, either.”

“I’m not talking to _you_!”

Yamaguchi reaches out and grabs Hinata’s elbow before he can deal the blond any actual physical blows. He tugs at it lightly, forcing his roommate to turn to him. “Hinata, I’ll meet you back at the dorm, okay? Light a few candles. Don’t leave a candle near the curtains or any wood or… anything that can catch fire.”

Hinata softens, his stance relaxing. “Okay. Tell me if Tsukishima attacks you or anything, and I’ll punch him!”

Tsukishima crosses his arms, smirk never leaving his face for a second. “I don’t think you punching my legs would hurt that much.” 

“Wanna bet?”

 

* * *

 

“So, uh, you play volleyball?” Yamaguchi asks him ten minutes later. His eyes rake over Tsukishima’s hand as it grabs a fry from the paper container. Two long, slender fingers raise an even thinner, yellow strip of potato, and promptly pop it into the blond’s mouth. He wastes no movement, and even his chewing seems precise and calculated. _So cool_ , he thinks, and berates himself for thinking that about the blond eating fries _. Stop being a creep._

“I guess,” Tsukishima says, after swallowing.

“Is it fun?” Yamaguchi tries to hold on to the conversation, but his companion shrugs and turns back to his work, moving his headphones back over his ears.

“Not particularly.”

 

* * *

 

_Studies of some invertebrates have focused on their potential as indicators or as models of biotic response to environmental changes in terrestrial and aquatic habitats. Invertebrate communities residing in rainwater pools within interlocking leaves of tank-bromeliads are simple yet consist of multiple trophic levels, making them ideal model systems for analysis of mechanisms behind assemblage of communities in ponds, specifically with respect to environmental change. It was found that invertebrates located in different areas varied in taxonomic composition and species abundance, and that taxonomic richness and overall invertebrate abundance was affected by abundance of predator species, though species at lower trophic levels remained constant (Dézerald, 2013)._

Yamaguchi lifts his fingers from the keyboard and stretches his arms over his head. He brings down one arm to check the time. He lets out a small sound of surprise when he finds it’s only eight at night, and his features contort into a bright smile. He brings down the other arm to wave at Tsukishima, who slides down his headphones and raises one eyebrow expectantly.

“Just three more pages to go, Tsukki. _Three pages._ ” Yamaguchi raises three fingers triumphantly. “And I still have three days before the deadline! Well, two, but you know, technicalities.” 

Tsukishima hums.

“No, I don’t think you understand, Tsukki. I wrote _fifteen_ pages in _ten_ hours.” The freckled boy shakes his head in disbelief.

“Nice,” Tsukishima deadpans. The other boy realizes it’s the best possible response from his companion, so he laughs.

“I’m spent. I’ll write the last three pages tomorrow,” he says, and unplugs his charger. He shuts his laptop and carefully places it in its bag, following it with the charger cord. As he gathers his papers on the table, his eyes graze the café. It's still filled with university students hunched over tablets and laptops, but with a different composition than earlier. In Tanaka’s place at the cashier stands a tall, blond man who greets his next customer with kind eyes and an unarming smile. From three tables away, the tangy smell of a heated sandwich wafts its way to Yamaguchi’s nostrils, and his stomach betrays a loud sound of desire. He turns to the blond across from him.

“Hey, uh, do you maybe want to get something to eat?” Yamaguchi asks carefully, unsure whether he treaded on a territory their newfound friendship stood on. _Are we even friends?_ He thinks, and frowns.

“I can’t. I have to stay here,” he replies automatically. Yamaguchi’s frown deepens.

“You aren’t going home yet? Do you still have to study or something?”

“Or something,” he says after a beat. Yamaguchi raises a concerned eyebrow.

“Aren’t you going to eat dinner?”

“I’ll order a donut.”

“Just a donut, Tsukki?” His eyes squint as they try to make out some of the available food at the counter. Glazed donut, chocolate donut, chocolate donut. As he raises his gaze, his eyes meet the blond barista’s, who shoots him an incredulous look. Yamaguchi immediately snaps his head back to Tsukishima, blushing.

“I’m not really hungry,” the blond offers. Sighing inwardly, Yamaguchi picks up his bag from the floor and stands up. He picks up his phone from the table and waves awkwardly to Tsukishima.

“Okay. Um, bye.”

“Bye.”

 

* * *

 

“I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I didn’t see you eat anything at all the whole day, so I was really worried that the heat would kill you because you’re so thin and pale. Oh, and about that! I was wondering what kind of sunscreen you use because you have really pale skin, but you don’t look like you have any sunburns.” Yamaguchi talks at sixty words a second, and Tsukishima startles at the abrupt appearance of the boy in front of him. He puts down his phone and stares, struggling to keep up with Yamaguchi’s race against time.

“Yamaguchi.” He places a paper bag in front of Tsukishima. Failing to notice his stupefaction, he continues his speech. 

“Hinata has sunburns in, like, three places, and we’ve tried maybe five different brands but none of them _work_ , and I’m worried about him because he’s not going to be able to play very well with the burns distracting him,” he says, nervous. _Maybe if I keep talking, he won’t be creeped out by me_ buying him _food._

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima tries again. The other boy ignores him and settles in the chair he occupied only an hour ago.

“So, anyway, I didn’t know what to get you. I mean, we only met yesterday and I don’t even know your first name, so I don’t really know what kind of food you prefer for dinner. So I just asked the waiter what his favorite thing on the menu was and ordered it for take out. I kind of forgot what it was, so you’ll just have to open it to see, but I hope you don’t have any severe allergies or anything because I couldn’t afford a lawyer if you died. Also, it would kind of suck if you – wait, what, why are you laughing?” He stares, offended, at Tsukishima’s jovial expression, as the latter fails to stifle a guffaw. He had taken out the black, plastic bowl from the paper bag, and was cackling as he stared at the meal.

Objectively, Tsukishima’s laugh is _ugly_. It is loud, even when muffled, and it is nowhere near as controlled and clear as his speaking voice. The laugh is dotted with boisterous snorts, and the skin around his eyes crinkle with every breath. His shoulders shake uncontrollably, and he raises the hand not covering his mouth to wipe at the tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Objectively, Tsukishima’s laugh is far from beautiful, yet Yamaguchi feels his face heat up at the sight. _God, that is cute._

“Was she pretty?” His woolgathering is abruptly interrupted by the blond’s expectant gaze. He continues to chuckle, though he improves at suppressing his glee.

“Huh? Who?” Confused, Yamaguchi knots the skin between his eyebrows.

“The waitress?”

“The wai _ter_. He looked okay, I guess.” As he responds, Tsukishima turns and moves the bowl so its contents face Yamaguchi. The bowl sports the usual rice, pork belly strips, vegetables, and egg.

All the ingredients are overshadowed, however, by the ghastly amount of ketchup in the container skillfully utilized to enumerate a presumable cellphone number and spell out a name at the bottom. 

“I… I didn’t know he did that.” Yamaguchi turns as red as the sauce in the bowl. “I don’t, um…”

“ _Oikawa_ ,” Tsukishima reads, and relays the number to Yamaguchi. He coughs to hide his snicker as he points at a colon-asterisk. “God, look, he even gave you a ketchup kiss.”

“It’s not funny, Tsukki!”

“It’s a little funny,” he says, and takes back the bowl. He spreads the ketchup around the bowl, making the text intelligible.

“You only think that because you’re not the victim in this situation,” Yamaguchi huffs in reply. He watches Tsukishima dig into the bowl with veiled interest and more obvious annoyance, and almost misses the word the blond utters after swallowing a bite.

“Kei,” he says, setting down his chopsticks. He fixes his gaze on Yamaguchi.

“I’m glad that’s settled, then,” Yamaguchi replies, face heating up under Tsukishima’s stare. 

“No, my first name. It’s Kei.”

At that, Yamaguchi beams. Tsukishima looks down to his bowl, as if shielding his eyes. The tips of his ears flush a deep red, and he quietly picks up his chopsticks to take another bite of the ketchup dish.

“That’s a really cute name, Tsukki.”

 

* * *

 

Yamaguchi opens the door to their room and announces his arrival from a shower in the communal bathrooms. A scented candle is lit on Hinata’s desk, and Yamaguchi frowns at the smell of sandalwood. Sandalwood meant his roommate felt particularly distressed. He finds him laying on top of his blankets in the same clothes he went out in, blankly staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” he calls out at the figure on the bed. The candle’s light bathes Hinata in an orange glow, as if the sun itself were in their room and not a hundred and fifty million kilometers away. He turns his head towards Yamaguchi by the door.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you come in,” he replies, despite their room being thrice the size of a utility closet.

“You okay?” Yamaguchi sets down his towel and walks two steps toward Hinata’s desk, the sound of his footsteps echoing around the silent room. He blows out the candle, and the sun leaves the room in an instant, leaving them with the night’s chill and moon’s illumination as both seep through their opened window.

“Yeah,” Hinata replies, once Yamaguchi lays on his bed.

“Good night, Hinata.”

“Kageyama kissed me,” Hinata says, his voice little over a whisper, as if scared the entire world would hear the confession.

Yamaguchi hears, however, and lets out a short “oh”.

“It was nice.”

“Oh.”

“Good night, Yamaguchi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> confession: this was supposed to be a two-chapter fic, but while writing i kept adding elements to the story and even now i'm not sure how it'll all end, haha. hinata and kageyama, for example, i originally planned to remain friends throughout the whole fic, but, well, you know.
> 
> as always, i appreciate all feedback for my work, whether good or bad! i would love to improve as a writer, so if there's any part of my writing i can better, please let me know! you could also contact me @ wrino.tumblr.com. it's a sideblog dedicated solely to my writing, so the only post i have on there is the first chapter of chance encounters, lol. i will answer all questions/write some prompts though, so feel free to talk to me there! (´∀｀)♡
> 
> (oh, also, i've been planning a karasuno first years zombie au for quite some time now, so stay tuned for that, i guess?)


End file.
